The Halo eBook

“Come, buck up, old thing,” she said,
with an affectation of brusque good-humour: “you
haven’t been sleeping. Isn’t that
it?”

“Yes. I’ll never sleep any more.”

“And you’re taking—­Veronal?”

“Yes, sometimes. Oh, don’t bully
me, Tony! I’m—­done.”

“I should think you were, to come and tell a
woman beastly stories about her own daughter!
You’ll be sorry to-morrow. Did you tell
her this beautiful idea by way of making yourself
engaging?”

“I told her—­yes.”

“And she didn’t knock you down? Upon
my word, I am surprised. Now look here, Gerald;
you must go. I’m going to dress. We
are going to the Cassowary’s ball. You’d
better go to bed and try to sleep without any Veronal.
Will you? Will you, Gerry, poor old boy?”

His nerves were in such a condition that this unmerited
and unexpected kindness broke him down utterly.
Suddenly, to her horror, the poor wretch burst into
tears, sobbing like a child.

“Yes, pat his head and call him dear!”
cried Brigit furiously from the open door. “He
insults me in the most abominable way, the vile little
beast, and then you pet him. Bah! mother, you
do really make me ill!”

Lady Kingsmead turned, amazed. “You are
off your head, too! Can’t you see he is
ill?”

But Brigit’s anger, nursed all during the drive
home, burst out afresh. All her life she and
her mother had quarrelled; there had never been implanted
in her even an idea of the common decency of filial
respect, or of its semblance. Her mother’s
gusty, fitful temper had always, when roused, been
given instant vent in a torrent of vituperation, and
the girl, while too sulky to be so spontaneous even
in the unpleasant sense of the word, had early acquired
the habit of speaking to her mother as she would have
to a greatly disliked sister.

So now, when her rage with Carron burst its bounds,
and she found, as she thought, her mother taking his
part, she gave free rein to her temper, and its eloquent
bitterness struck Lady Kingsmead for the moment dumb.

Carron sat still, his face hidden in his hands.
When at last Brigit’s arraignment ceased, Lady
Kingsmead’s turn came, and more feebly, less
effectively, but to the best of her powers, she gave
back abuse for abuse.

It was not a pleasant sight. Unbridled rage never
is, even when in a good cause, and these two undisciplined
women had lost all dignity and said very bad things
to each other.

Brigit’s one excuse was her mistaken assumption
that her mother had believed Carron’s story,
and when Lady Kingsmead had shrieked out everything
else that she thought might hurt her daughter, she
added, “I believed in you, you little brute,
though he said he saw you there. I might
have known he wouldn’t have dared to make up
such a tale.”